Mortal Ties

by Eileen Wilks

  “So the prototype isn’t just missing—it’s broadcasting,” Lily said grimly. “Which means any nulls in the vicinity could be having some real strange memories.” She pulled out her phone. “Damn. It’s after one in D.C. I hate to wake Ruben.”

  “He may not be asleep,” Rule said. “He doesn’t need as much sleep these days. But perhaps we should decide first how much of this to believe.”

  She met his gaze. Nodded. “Even if it’s all true, he could still be omitting things. Maybe he’s still acting on Friar’s instructions, and the goal is to get Cynna here.”

  “Or to get us to that garage.”

  “Or both. Most of what he’s told us confirms what we already suspected.”

  “I understand why you would doubt me,” Jasper said, “but there’s one thing I can tell you that you haven’t suspected. Friar’s working with one of the sidhe.”

  “I knew it!” Cullen exclaimed. “Damned elves.”

  Jasper’s eyebrows shot up. “You already knew?”

  “He didn’t, actually,” Lily said, “but we did suspect they were involved somehow. Why do you say Friar’s working with them?”

  “With them or for them. Or one of them. I heard her talking once when Friar called to chat, and it sounded like she was telling him what to do. Not that I know what she said, but she sounded in charge. And that voice…it had to be an elf. No one else could sound like that.”

  Some of the sidhe delegation had given interviews on TV. The translation device they used relied on a form of mind-magic, which only worked in person, so the gnome had translated for the television audience. But everyone had heard their voices as they answered in their own language, and Jasper was right. No one and nothing sounded like an elf.

  Except maybe a halfling? One of the elves was female, but so was the halfling. She didn’t look elfin, but halfling meant mixed blood and she was sidhe, which meant some of that mix was elf. The halfling hadn’t given any interviews, though—at least none Lily had seen. Lily didn’t know if she sounded like a fountain or a flute or something else impossibly musical the way the elves did. “You’re sure it was a female voice?”

  He nodded.

  She looked at Rule and tried something. You buying this?

  A flicker of surprise on his face told her it had worked. She felt ridiculously pleased, kind of like when, in the second grade, she’d suddenly grasped the mystery of fractions. He gave a small nod, but she didn’t “hear” him reply.

  Apparently sending and receiving mindspeech were two distinct skills. Me, too, she sent, or thought she did. Impossible to be sure, since his face didn’t give her a clue this time.

  She’d have to chance waking Ruben up. The trade delegation was almost certainly involved. The prototype was not just missing, but active—and therefore actively altering memories in weird and unpredictable ways.

  “Hold on a minute,” Drummond said. “I’ve got an idea. If I’m right, you’ll want to hear it before you call Brooks.”

  Lily had almost forgotten he was here. What did it mean that she could get so used to a see-through guy that she stopped noticing him? “What?” she said—and realized she’d spoken out loud, and glanced at Jasper. Should she tell him? Did it matter if he knew she was a mite haunted?

  Reluctantly she decided it might. If spilling his guts to Friar would buy Adam’s life—or if he thought it would—Friar would know all about Drummond, too. She wasn’t sure that mattered, but any information they kept from Friar might give them an advantage.

  Drummond had straightened away from his spot against the wall and walked closer. He went around Scott just as if he’d been solid. “I’ve got a couple questions for the sorcerer.”

  Okay. She glanced at Rule and tried to do it again with him. It felt different when she mindpsoke Rule. She couldn’t define the difference, but it was as obvious as the difference between her right hand and her left. I’m going to wait so Drummond can ask some questions first. He thinks it’s important.

  His eyebrows lifted.

  Drummond looked at Cullen. “This gizmo of his—it puts out some kind of mind-magic, right? And it’s turned on.”

  Lily spoke to Cullen. “Your prototype is turned on. That means it’s putting out mind-magic.”

  Cullen looked impatient. “Good to know you paid attention when I told you about it this time.”

  “What about his Find spell?” Drummond asked. “Is that mind-magic, too?”

  She repeated it: “Is your Find spell mind-magic?”

  “Not exactly. It—wait. Shit. That’s it. That’s why I can’t make the bloody spell work! Lily, you’re a bloody genius!” He took two long strides—right through Drummond, who scowled fiercely—grabbed her by the shoulders, and kissed her smack on the mouth. “Find spells aren’t mind-magic, but they’re Air, and so is mind-magic, and when you look at the congruencies—never mind. You don’t want to hear all that. The prototype itself is screwing up my spell!”

  “And you’re delighted about this because…?”

  “Because now I know.”

  Drummond answered at the same time. “Because now we know why they want it so damn bad.”

  Lily looked quickly at him. “What…” What do you mean?

  He rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? The prototype keeps the woo-woo types from Finding things. These perps have kidnapped two people, and if they have the prototype, you aren’t going to Find them.”

  THIRTY

  RULE knew by the look on Lily’s face that Drummond had said something important. When she passed it on, Cullen’s eyes went wide. “That’s it. Could that be it? Hard to believe I made something the elves don’t have twice as good already, when they could—no, wait, what if that bit from Kålidåsa’s Siddhanta is new to them? They don’t borrow much from human traditions. Hell, they don’t think much of humans, period, so if they never—I need to go.”

  “Go where?” Rule asked.

  Cullen started for the entry. “Go think. I can’t think with everyone yammering.”

  At the moment, he was the only one speaking. “The conference room?” Rule said to Cullen’s back. He gestured for Marcus and Steve to follow.

  “Yes,” Cullen said on his way out the door.

  “I don’t know,” Lily said slowly, “if Cullen’s a hundred percent on target, but close. Only why is Friar involved? I don’t think we can assume the main purpose he has for the device is to hide his captives from Find spells.”

  She said that to empty air. At least it looked empty to Rule at first, but something was there, a paleness blurring the air…and a glow. A soft, golden glow in one spot. Abruptly that paleness sharpened into clarity. He saw Al Drummond standing there—the combed-back hair, the sardonic expression, and the gold wedding ring on his left hand.

  Rule jerked in shock.

  “What?” Lily said.

  “Nothing.” And that’s what he saw now. Nothing. He needed to tell Lily he’d actually seen the ghost. The mate bond was still bleeding something of her ability into him—was maybe turning up the power on that—and she needed to know.

  But later. When they were alone. “Friar wants to sell it,” Rule said. “The sidhe realms run heavily on magic. It’s their tech. They might have dozens of uses for such a device that we can’t imagine.”

  “And they could pay for it with more of the kind of stuff he got from Rethna. God. That’s bad news. I need to call Ruben right now. If he—” Her eyebrows went up as her hand went to her pocket. She took out her phone, snorted, and answered. “Hello, Ruben.”

  Rule heard Ruben Brook’s reply. “I had a hunch I should call. Is my timing a problem?”

  “No, you’re being your usual uncanny precog self. I need to bring you up-to-date.” Lily began pacing as she briefed her boss.

  Rule went to the spot on the couch she’d vacated and sat beside the man Lily insisted on calling his brother. He looked at Jasper. “You haven’t laid down any terms this time.”

  “Tonight I come
as a supplicant. One without power can’t set terms.”

  Lily had been right. Jasper didn’t care if he went to jail, not as long as Adam was safe. “Did you consider just asking for help before?”

  Jasper looked down. His hands were clasped between his knees, and his face was still. “I didn’t know you. I had some preconceptions, mostly negative. I was just bright enough to know that’s what they were—glimpses caught through a distorted lens—but I was used to them. They were all I had to go on.”

  “I didn’t have any preconceptions. I didn’t know about you. Until last night, I didn’t know you existed.”

  Jasper nodded. “So Isen told me.”

  “You’ve talked to him.”

  “The last time my mother went in for treatment. Until then, I didn’t know Isen had paid for Mom’s treatments all along. I knew Dad hadn’t—he never made that kind of money—but he’d told me it was a relative of hers, someone with plenty of money and a guilty conscience, who covered the cost.” Jasper’s smile flickered. “True enough in a sense.”

  “Isen didn’t feel guilty about Celeste.”

  Jasper’s eyebrows climbed. “No? My father…but his perspective could be skewed, I suppose. He’s a good man, a fair man, but it was hard on him, accepting help from the man who’d abandoned her.”

  “Abandoned her?” Rule heard the sharpness in his voice. Carefully he smoothed it out. “I don’t think we’ve heard the same story.”

  To his surprise, Jasper laughed briefly. “I’m sure we haven’t. I’ve heard dozens of stories. Mom was…I’m not sure she knew which version was real. But Dad’s head is screwed on straight. He says that Isen wanted nothing more to do with her once she gave birth to you. He’d gotten what he wanted.”

  Isen would never abandon a woman, and certainly not the mother of his child. Hadn’t he proved that, paying for Celeste’s treatment over the years? But…Rule forced himself to stop mentally defending his father. He didn’t know what had gone on between Isen and Celeste Babineaux. If Isen had stopped wanting to be her lover, she might have experienced that as abandonment. Back then, when human mores were very different from now, it was no light thing for an unmarried woman to take a lover. To bear his child.

  Had Celeste been desperately in love with Isen? Had she felt betrayed when she realized he wanted the child she bore more than he wanted her?

  She’d been fragile. He knew that now, and he remembered his father cautioning him more than once about fragile women, women too damaged or needy to take as lovers. They might seem to hear you, he’d said, when you tell them it’s not forever, but they need so much. Sometimes all they can hear is their own need. You can be completely honest with them and still hurt them terribly.

  Had Isen hurt Celeste terribly?

  Such a woman might resent the baby Isen loved and wanted so much. Such a woman might find the sight of that baby impossible to bear. He looked at his mother’s other son, who looked so much like him. “You love Adam very much.”

  Surprise flickered across Jasper’s face. That was one way they were different—Jasper’s emotions tended to be writ large and clear for all to see. “He’s funny and tender and tough and a huge pain in the ass sometimes. He’s more than I can say. He’s the light of my life.”

  Lily had finished talking to Ruben and was making a second call. Her hair was loose, still tousled from their loving. She kept tucking it behind her ears, and it kept slipping free. She was giving instructions this time, her voice crisp as she told someone why they were to check out a particular FedEx garage and those who worked there.

  She was funny and tender and tough and, yes, sometimes a pain in the ass. She was the light of his life, and he knew all too well what it was to fear for the one you loved. He spoke to Jasper. “I can’t promise we’ll get Adam back safely, but you have my word that we’ll do everything we can to make that happen.”

  Jasper studied him for a moment, maybe trying to see what his word meant. He nodded. “Thank you.”

  Rule took out his own phone. This was his responsibility, after all. He had no good reason for pushing it off on Lily. He was about to select Cynna’s mobile number when the phone in his hand vibrated.

  It was his brother. His brother Benedict, that is, whom he’d thought was his only brother after Mick died…and that was a confusing thought. Rule answered.

  AN hour later, it looked like Jasper would run out of time before Lily ran out of questions. Jasper glanced at his watch. “I need to leave soon.”

  “We’ve still got forty-five minutes.” Lily flipped to a fresh page in her notebook.

  Cynna had said she would come if she could. She hadn’t said what the qualifier meant—just that she’d let him know tonight. It might be late tonight, but she’d call and let him know.

  It was an odd response. Maybe Lily was right. Maybe the Lady did have the habit and the means of warning her Rhejes away from too-dangerous actions.

  Rule hadn’t been able to pass on Benedict’s news yet. It involved Arjenie, and her Gift and heritage was not a secret he could pass on to others.

  “We’ve been trying to find the agent you used to use,” Lily began.

  Jasper snorted. “You, too?”

  “Are other people looking for him?”

  “Me. I suspect he’s where Friar learned about my professional abilities, mainly because no one else knows.”

  “The Bureau did turn up a police file on you.”

  “Agent Adamson. Dogged fellow. He couldn’t tie me to anything, but he had good instincts. But he didn’t know about my specialty or my nom de guerre.”

  “Umbra.”

  Jasper’s eyebrows climbed. “That wasn’t in your police file.”

  “No, I got that from another source. Your former agent’s name was Hugo, right? Over fifty, overweight, unusual tat on his forehead.”

  “You have good sources.”

  “Tell me about Hugo. What’s his last name?”

  Jasper shrugged. “Variable. He’s got at least three identities that I know. Or he used to. He doesn’t seem to be using any of them these days. He’s a big guy, like you said. Doesn’t talk much. He’s greedy, fit beneath the flab, hates drugs but likes bourbon, and he’s crooked as they come. So why did I use him, you ask? Because his handshake meant something to him. Once you struck a deal and shook on it, that was it. He’d hold to that. He did time once to protect a client’s name. More practically, I was worth a pretty penny to him—he got five percent of any deal he brokered, and why would he give that up?”

  “Yet you think he gave up your name to Friar.”

  Jasper smiled wryly. “I did say he’s my former agent. A couple of years ago, I caught him in a lie. Now, that wasn’t unusual—Hugo likes lying—but this was a stupid lie. It only netted him a couple grand, and for that he broke his word?” Jasper shook his head. “I severed our relationship.”

  “My source says you retired a few years ago, or at least stopped taking jobs.”

  “Ah. Yes. The loss of my agent played into my decision.”

  “You’ve tried to find him recently?”

  “And failed.”

  “Do you have a photo of him?”

  “No, he’s camera shy.”

  “Describe him, then.”

  “He’s, uh.…at least three hundred pounds and maybe an inch taller than me. That would make him six-three. He’s bald—lost the hair on top years ago and shaves the rest. The tattoo you know about. Brown eyes. His nose is kind of squashed—I think it got broken when he was in prison, but it might have happened earlier. I don’t know his age, but it’s not far from mine.”

  “Has his weight changed much since you met him?”

  “He’s always been heavy. Maybe fifty of those pounds were added over the last sixteen years.”

  “That’s how long you’ve known him?”

  Jasper nodded and looked at his watch again. “Listen, I…”

  Rule heard Jasper’s phone vibrate. Lily probably didn’t, but she
must have seen the way he jumped. “It’s him,” Jasper said. “Friar. That’s the phone he gave me.” He reached for one of the pockets in his vest.

  “Wait a minute,” Lily said. “Could that have a GPS in it?”

  Jasper shook his head. “I checked. Quiet. For God’s sake, everyone needs to be real quiet.”

  “He won’t hear your conversation on the house mics.”

  “I know. Shh.” Jasper thumbed the phone, held it to his mouth with his hand cupped over it, and whispered, “Yes.”

  Rule heard a much-hated voice: “Are we playing a whisper game, Jasper?”

  Jasper replied so softly Rule wondered how well Lily could hear him. “They’ve got some of their people watching me. One’s on my roof. You want them listening to us talk?”

  Friar was amused. “And do you think this watcher could hear a phone conversation two floors beneath him over that music you play every night in your ongoing effort to baffle my listening devices?”

  “I don’t know. Do you?”

  “It’s an excess of caution, but never mind. It’s almost time for you and dear Adam to be reunited. You have twenty-five minutes to reach Hammond Middle School. Set your timer now. You are to call your brother in fifteen minutes—do be precise, you will be graded on this—and tell him to meet you there at eleven forty-five. He’s to leave his bodyguards at the hotel. Make sure he brings Seabourne. Say whatever you have to. Just make sure he brings Seabourne.”

  “A middle school? You want to meet at—I don’t even know where that is!” Jasper’s eyes were wild, but he kept his voice to a whisper.

  “Look it up. And don’t be late. Every minute you’re late, something unpleasant will happen to poor Adam.”

  “Twenty-five minutes isn’t enough! And you have to let me talk to Adam first. I need proof—”

  “Twenty-five minutes,” Friar repeated. And hung up.

  Jasper looked up, his knuckles white on the phone he clutched in one hand. “The recordings. They’ve got over an hour to go. He won’t hear me leave the house. He’ll know. He’ll know, and—”